Midsummer Nightmare
by Urchin of the Riding Stars
Summary: Twoshot. Through an elaborate hoax with the Disasteroid, Vlad manages to bring the world to its knees. Jack has been sentenced to eternal exile, but the rest of Vlad's new 'family' find themselves in the tyrant's clutches. Spurned Affections shipping.
1. Midsummer Dawns Darkness

Midsummer's Nightmare

Through an elaborate hoax with the Disasteroid, Vlad manages to bring the world to its knees. Jack has been sentenced to exile, but the rest of Vlad's new 'family' wasn't so lucky. Spurned Affections.

Wrote this Twoshot feeling a little down...you can probably guess. :p Giving this a happy ending might yet be impossible, but you never do know what a change of heart can bring.

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><p><em><em>"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, <em>_

__Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, __

__Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, __

__With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine..."__

Lovely, but would Daniel truly understand any of it?

With a slight sigh, Vlad lowered the heavy volume, and, after rummaging in his tuxedo pockets for a second, withdrew a dully shining pocketwatch. After flicking open the relic briefly to check its tiny, eleaborately carved hands, Vlad slowly stood up from the couch, stretching lightly.

It was about that time once again. He would do well not to be late-the boy was so fussy when the daily itineary was shifted, even just a little. The doctors had warned him against allowing Daniel to have another panic attack, especially in his critical...recovery stage. Though why the dubious fools Vlad had hired insisted on calling it that struck him as immensely irritating.

Whistling, Vlad tucked the book under his arm and withdrew from his study, whistling slightly as explosions continued to detonate underneath his bay windows, making the handmade glass and curtains tremble just the slightest.

At the very least, the decorative windows were set in soundproof glass. Even with his advanced hybricnetic hearing, Vlad wasn't able to detect the screams coming from outside.

_"And therefore is Love said to be a child,_

_Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.__" _

He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed reading this classic whilst he was in High School.

One hand holding open his book, the other leisurely trailing against a redwood balcony, the man smoothly descended a set of richly carpeted steps, absentmindedly turning a page as he crossed a corner, and began to head down another flight, still absorbed in the story.

Contrary to what Daniel believed, Vlad's own generation had grown up very much like his-with the same complaints exploding when the government force-fed the adolescents culture. It had annoyed Vlad to no end back then, considering the state of so many schools that could only afford second-hand copies of the precious volumes. Even now-or shortly ago-with the government practically spoon-feeding masterpieces to ignorant little boys and girls, young people still scorned and dismissed such material as beneath them, considering that none could understand.

In a sense, _now_ they were being given better service then even the most entitled-feeling youth could demand. Now, every youth tied to their desks in classes was receiving a lovely copy of genuine culture, and _made_ to understand, to appreciate.

Or at the very least, enough to appease the soliders standing near their homes and hearths, watching family members and loved ones attempt to move about the same as usual. Needless to say, there was no more foolish despoiling a copy belonging a school facility, or 'accidentally' forgetting to return one. New Student Handbooks for most educational facilities made it rather clear under the 'Disciplinary' Section that were assigned novels returned in less then perfect repair, said offendent would be shot on sight.

Literature was not to be denied. It was a golden age for the classics...pardoning the unlucky volumes, writers, and owners of volumes on the Black List.

After all, he couldn't yet allow his society to become _too_ advanced. For whatever brilliance there could be, Sociology demanded that only a few could exist in the ruling class. And, for right now, that class was assigned to four members only. It would probably grow in time...for the lucky few who could keep their mouths shut, and value their necks.

Besides, this world hadn't yet been reaped of rebellion; of protests, of needless violence. Even before Vlad had seized control of the world, he'd seen enough stupid people marching towards soldiers in the name of 'peace' to their deaths. Same story, each and every time. People never learned-not after a death, not after tragedy-not after things got truly ghastly, and people understood just how _cruel_ their master was.

Not until the world stood silent could there be any understanding, it seemed. It transpired it was the same story with his family.

Vlad passed another set of windows, tugging lightly on a silk tassel and sending the velvet drapes swinging softly to a close, just in time to avoid observing a building errupt into emerald flames.

_But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd,_

_Than that which withering on the virgin thorn_

_Grows, lives and dies in single blessedness._

Vlad closed his novel once again, and murmured the words over a very thin, very pale woman still consumed in restless slumber on his enormous bed. His fingers ghosted over the gold roses and elaborate cherubs immortalized in the bed frame (worth a handsome fortune,) before they greedily moved on to his Queen's face, carefully brushing some hazel strands out of her eyes.

Even with the dark shadows now omnipresent under her eyes when Vlad's servants weren't wont to put make-up on her, she looked like a sleeping angel beneath the red and white sheets tenderly wrapped around her curvy form. When Vlad's hands moved to the woman's shoulders, however, her brow furrowed, and Vlad's Lady uneasily withdrew from his touch, unconsciously curling deeper into a ball, arms shielding her face, as if shielding it from humiliation. Vlad only smiled, however, and drew a few steps back. He glanced around the Master Masters Bedroom (How he loved a bad pun!), and withdrew a fresh red rose from one of the enormous Ming Vases Maddie learned to not break. After twirling about the lovely flower that had been stripped of its thorns in his hands, he carefully lay it next to Maddie's face, close to her nose so that the aroma could wash over her in her dreams, and tiptoed out.

Dear Madeline. Still so uncomfortable...

...he shouldn't have been surprised to find that she wasn't awake, yet. That rendezvous in bed last night had been quite the enjoyable one, and Maddie had a tendency to sleep for a long, long while afterwards. Vlad suspected that sometimes, she simply lay there pretending to sleep, as she so often did after her groans and cries of guilty pleasure had subsided, and she was left staring at the four-poster above her, wrapped in a vicelike grip in her husband's arms.

Well, her _better_ husband's arms, at least. Jack's pathetic gold band had been unceremoniously thrown into a furnace after Maddie had at last agreed to marry Vlad. Vlad had custom-made a 9 karot blue diamond ring to rest in place of the band, with Vlad's heavy ruby college ring under it, exactly where Jack's ring used to rest.

Vlad's eyes flashed scarlet as he slowly closed the enormous doors of the Master Suite, an absolutely insane smile appearing below his hooded orbs.

Dear, dear old Jack. None of this-absolutely _none_ of this-would have been quite possible without him. He supposed he might tell his wardens to slip the oaf another serving of gruel-if he cared to remember.

Jack was still agonizing alone in a_ 'Special Purposes' _Lab somewhere in the depths of Siberia. Ironically enough, he still enjoyed a healthy schedule each and every day, as to not so overturn his life too much. One third of his day was spent in hard labor, another third was spent in being a lab subject for two sadistic ghosts, (Vlad so did love irony) and his last third was divided in two digits: A, Torture, and B, his cowering in a freezing prison in the dead of night while hardtack bread was unceremoniously shoveled into his room.

Vlad had already decided to allow Jack a sporting chance of escape sometime in the near future, tortured with the images of his former wife and children in his eyes. And then, after a few grueling days in the wilderness, he'd have him reach the borderlines of prison territory before ordering Jack to be shot down. After all, killing him now would only spare him torment, and what use would killing him later do when he was filled with so much pain as to be numb to any more be?

But better yet, if Jack did survive to meet this splendid plan, Vlad decided he would simply be the one to kill him-after letting the fool know exactly where Madeline and his children were. Where Jack had all but placed them himself, on a silver platter.

Casting a fond look at the doors behind him, Vlad softly started to whistle in the otherwise silent halls before he easily phased into spectral form, and, after turning intangible, phased through the floor, open book still in hand:

_O hell! to choose love with another's eye._

_"Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,_

_Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend_

_More than cool reason ever comprehends.__"_

Vlad stopped at one of his many Private Bars, and silently, his spectral bartender handed him a glass. Taking a sip of its freezing contents, Vlad took another pause to glance at his book. It was certainly lucky that he had chosen not to walk the entire distance in his elaborate new fortress that made even his Wisconsin Castle look a mite shabby, else he'd be walking for awhile. Forget practicing his powers-THAT was an actual workout.

Still lost in thought, he flipped the Shakespearean Treasury back to his old page, smug that he carrying about a three-hundred year old version. Appreciatively tracing the faded, elegant script and watercolored pictures, he figured he should really read the copy aloud to Maddie as well as Daniel.

Speaking of which...

Vlad exhaled, closed his eyes, and moved his face upwards, smiling faintly in disbelief.

If he'd realized just how desperate human beings would be to protect them from a false threat-a so-called 'Disasteroid' that was little more then an elaborate scam he'd elaborated in space, he would have attempted it the moment his sanity broke a year ago, directly after his final cloning failure.

But now, he had the true thing. A little damaged, perhaps, but his. It still awed him how it all came together all-too-neatly, all-too-sweetly.

It had been a few months since anarchy had at last stopped ripping and tearing through the already ragged corners of the world; since he'd lead his soliders-some human, some spectral-into the Fenton household. Such a lovely evening, with screams still fresh in his ears.

How every Fenton member had taken up arms against him...and toppled like dominos.

After closing his book and getting up from the posh barstool, the hybrid continued on his journey, passing through one of his many swimming pools, another bar, an indoor hockey rink, and a library, all the while frowning slightly.

Ah, how he pitied his dear family. How much enjoyment, leisure, and revlery could they reap, if they didn't insist on hanging onto their useless grief! Even Daniel, once he started speaking coherently again, would surely enjoy the fact that he no longer had to risk his life for thousands of ingrates, and start living the life of a Prince. Jasmine could easily have anything and everything she wanted-if she only didn't continue to throw her silver bell away like a baby enjoying a silly game. He didn't trust his family enough to go outside just yet, but one day, when all the violence had subsided and shrapnel and bullets ceased flying everywhere, they could enjoy a simple outing. (Not that 'simple' didn't involve dire luxury, of course.) Just together.

Very much so, he pitied Madeline, for having been so deluded into believing she belonged at Jack's side-for attempting to fight off the new chairman of the world the way she did. Although Vlad once again admired the fire that so endeared him to this beautiful woman, he did regret having to battle her. He'd apologized profusely for the wounds he'd accidentally inflicted on her when she woke up in his bed-not so much for the ones she'd inflicted on herself when she had attempted to get away.

But whilst Vlad had craved Maddie for too many years, he didn't particularly want the woman he loved to fight him, especially when it came to an act of love.

Which was precisely why he'd taken Jasmine alongside most of her family, although she was a liability. A collector's item, perhaps-but her betrayal had been one of the worst he'd received in a great, great while. Maddie and Daniel had been his real prizes always, though he'd never really been anything but indifferent to Maddie's oldest child.

But Maddie would never consent to love him if she thought Jazz were perishing in some prison, someplace. It had been enough to phase her to Jack's location, and let her watch her pathetic husband suffer. She'd begged for his life, she'd wept with a broken heart...but she truly responded when Vlad had made some...suggestions concerning her children.

While Vlad would have never..._harmed _her children, per say-after all, they were his as well, now-but he'd only made a few pleasant suggestions considering what he'd gladly to do to them.

After the first week, and learning just how series the man who loved her unconditionally was, the two were wed. Madeline had looked like a phantasma of herself walking down the elaborate carpet, so very pale, so thin, but so lovely in the dazzling wedding gown that Vlad had had made for her.

Vlad phased through a nearby ceiling, passing up through the soft white carpet of a pretty little room that very much looked like it had been designed for a little girl.

Vlad had decided to look in on his lovely on a whim, but now, he had another floor to visit before he came to his favorite wing of the house. Might as well see what Jasmine was up to.

_Night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast,_

_And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger;_

_At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there,_

_Troop home to churchyards_.


	2. A Poor Player

I hope you're all happy. I kind of gave myself a cavity describing Jasmine's room, but it was so much fun, I couldn't stop.

Dude, I am NOT good with finishing stories. Sorry, folks for the delay.

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><p>Part II<p>

_Liberation is not deliverance. A convict may leave prison behind but not his sentence._

_-Les Miserables_

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><p><em>Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,<br>Brief as the lightning in the collied night,  
>That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,<br>And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold!  
>The jaws of darkness do devour it up:<br>_

_So quick bright things come to confusion._

Jasmine's second bedroom had been particularly satisfying to design for the tyrant, especially after he'd cheerfully endured her irritating screaming, her countless, empty threats, and her habit of breaking things.

…..well, perhaps _everyone_ in his new family was rather fond of breaking things, but it was a habit which would soon dissipate. Madeline had stopped smacking him across the face and throwing vases once she had seen the current state that her daughter was in.

Once she'd seen Danny, she'd immediately pledged her love and loyalty, though her lovely eyes had been swimming with tears. Heartbreaking, but, as he knew best, he would simply wait a little while longer. Time would heal all wounds, and was the destroyer of every affection.

…pardoning his own, of course.

Only out extreme courtesy to his little girl did he knock upon her large white doors, although both knew that there was absolutely nothing to stop the man from walking or phasing in, regardless if she barricaded her door or not.

…..yet again.

While Vlad waited, he heard nothing but a deathly hush from inside the girl's chamber, and then, his superior hearing helped him detect what sounded like timid footsteps slowly padding across her suite to the door. Vlad rolled his eyes slightly-didn't an educated girl like Jasmine know when to not drag her feet?

At last, the Rosegold doorknob turned, and he found himself gazing at Madeline's lovely daughter, whom kept her teal eyes anxiously averted away from him.

There was a time when the girl would be glowering bloody daggers at him, but now, her countenance was resigned, and exhausted. It appeared her tutors were keeping her up late once again-there were dark hollows underneath her eyes, which, while they'd once held a daring sparkle, were now monotonously deadpanned by either boredom, or some great, helpless sadness.

Vlad frowned, his brow furrowing as his long fingertips reached for the girl's chin, but Jasmine shied away from the touch, and reluctantly held her head up to meet Vlad's eyes, as he was forever ordering her to do. The man allowed her one wan smile of approval, and Jasmine hopefully opened her mouth to address him.

"I fi-"

But the man had swept past the redhead into her bedroom, and her words abruptly died, although a flicker of resentment passed through her expression as she carefully closed the door.

Vlad disinterestedly took a glance around the place, shielding his cobalt eyes from the glare of the enormous chandelier glowing softly above him, sending hundreds of thousands of little sparkles twinkling everywhere in the bedroom. He occasionally saw Jasmine rubbing her temples at suppertimes-he wondered if the ostentatious piece's constant brightness was giving the girl a headache. A small smirk twitched at the corners of his mouth at the thought, although his eyes remained cool and impassive.

The carpet was thick, fluffy, and cotton candy pink. The walls were a soft, baby-girl pink, and plenty of pretty pictures in beautiful, albeit extremely little-girl frames decorated with ballet shoes and pink teddy bears-were hanging from them.

The enormous chandelier above him was constructed entirely out of pink crystal, purple rhinestones, pink sapphires, and pink diamonds. It had cost a small fortune, but what was expense to the tyrant of the world? It was, after all, his oyster, and if he needed pink pearls-if only to drink in the look on Jasmine's face when she beheld it-so be it.

The marble bath in Jasmine's bathroom had shelves upon shelves of pink towels, pink washcloths, and, just to spite her, row upon row of pink bath toys. The faucets were made of solid gold, but they each had a pink gemstone set into their bases, and even the many fancy soaps, perfumes, and essential bath needs were all solid pink.

There were gold stars glittering on the ceiling of the girl's chamber, and the girl's enormous bed was a pink-four-poster with a mother-of-pearl-colored, elegant canopy veil (With pink lace and ribbons, of course) draped over it majestically. The bedspread, of course, was pink.

Pink bookshelves everywhere, but none of them were filled with the classics and psychological textbooks that Jazz so dearly loved. No-they were all filled with children's books, 98% directed for little girls, and a great deal of them were fairy tales whose sole purpose seemed to show off the princess' loveliness with pastel-colored gowns. Many of the shelves had stuffed fairies and pink kittens with bows tied around their necks on the top of them, and you were hard-pressed not to find yourself staring at a perfect Victorian china doll decked out in a ballgown or baby bonnet whenever you turned.

There was an adult-sized tea table surrounded by spindly little chairs (All pink) with little hearts on them, occupied by tiara or party hat wearing stuffed animals on in dresses, surrounded by a lovely pink tea set that looked as though it would crumble if you so much as looked at it wrong, all set with precious stones and perching on fragile little saucers.

There were pink vases, all filled with pink flowers. There were large pink dollhouses, all set with hundreds of little (Primarily pink) accessories for the dolls perfectly arranged inside, and plenty of small pink toy boxes filled with glittery dress-up gowns Vlad knew perfectly well Jasmine had not touched. If that little gloomy friend of Daniel's had stepped inside here, she'd take one look, and, if the windows and doors were dead-bolted, as they so often were, Miss Manson would most likely hang herself from the chandelier with one of the pink sheets.

If she were still alive, that was.

After admiring the spectacle, Vlad's eyes flickered to the Princess desk covered with hearts and little drawers with heart-shaped knobs that held stickers, scented glittery pens, and unicorn-designed stationary. On the desk's surface could you find the few remotely adult things in this toddler girl's paradise: Stacks and stacks of very heavy, very difficult, college-grade textbooks, surrounded by a growing pile of papers Jasmine had been forced to write in her own hand. Raising an eyebrow, Vlad turned away from it, turning his gaze back to Jasmine, who was hovering uncertainly by the door, clutching one arm, looking steadily down at the carpet. She appeared as though she were swaying slightly-the Yale professors he'd hired for her under penalty of death were clearly doing a fine job.

"So, how do you do, Jasmine?" he asked politely, a smirk blossoming on his face before he could stop it.

Jazz cast the man a weary, desperate look, but held her tongue for a moment-something Vlad had always very much encouraged her to do-before she began to speak, her voice slightly hoarse from underuse.

"I finished the draft as you asked. It took me all night, but I turned in all forty pages before sunrise."

Vlad nodded carelessly; he'd gone to one of the bookshelves, and was now halfheartedly flicking through one of the stupid little stories, snorting softly.

Jasmine's first room had been so quaint and quiet and perfect for her-dark, rich colors with creams and blues and modest while still being beautiful. Bookshelf after bookshelf filled was filled with every volume that her little heart could desire, but the girl had had a bad habit of throwing screaming fits that could last for hours on end, so Vlad had decided that if she wished to act like a two-year-old, he'd gladly treat her like one, and so, shortly after Jasmine had been permitted to see her brother and mother for the first time in two weeks, Vlad had moved her up to these girlified quarters, where thankfully, Jasmine remained quiet.

Almost too quiet.

_Now the hungry lion roars,  
>And the wolf behowls the moon;<br>Whilst the heavy ploughman sleeps,  
>All with weary task fordone.<em>

There was the soft sound of one of her private professors' voices during a great deal of the day, and by night, the girl mostly labored into the late hours of the mornings, studying. While she'd never been keen to ask for anything from Vlad's staff, she was now forced to take coffee around the clock, which while effective, still left her a quiet shadow of her normal self at mealtimes, and she was so weary her knife and fork kept sliding from her limp fingers.

Jazz cast the man an exhausted look, but tried again:

"So, can I be escorted to Danny's room?" she begged, her face very old, her voice very young. "Or to Mom's? I got my progress report back from Professor Ersatz the other day, and-"

"-you had an A-," interrupted Vlad, carelessly shoving the silly volume back, and going back to perusing the worn little novel he'd been carrying around with him. "That wasn't what we agreed upon, young lady."

Jasmine's eyes shone with angry tears, but she whipped around so that Vlad wouldn't see them.

"It was one simple mistake," she protested, trying to sound fierce, but instead, the girl simply sounded like she were pleading. "I was so tired that night, Vla-"

Thankfully, she stopped herself from finishing that sentence. Vlad would only accept one address from her without having her beaten, and it was one she would not, could not give, so she avoided addressing him altogether.

Vlad, apparently, did not seem to notice.

"Your thesis was phenomenal, and worthy of credibility. However," Vlad said mildly, and Jasmine flinched, "It is not quite so much so when someone drools all over the page after they pass out upon it."

Jasmine went scarlet.

"But I still got As," she said softly, hurrying to the man's side when he turned away from her again. "Can't you make one exception, just this one time? I just want to see Danny."

"You see your brother and mother at mealtimes."

Jazz shook her head in a flurry of orange, outrage beginning to boil inside of her once again.

"_That's not the same thing_! Neither of them ever speaks! Well, Mom occasionally does, but Danny-"

Now, Vlad was getting impatient.

"Jasmine, are you trying to imply that there's something you'd like to say to Madeline or Daniel that you would not be able to say to me?"

His tone was becoming dangerous. The color drained out of Jasmine's cheeks, and it took all the remaining strength the girl had not to crumble to the floor and start weeping, as she so often yearned to do when getting through the thick volumes of assignments her merciless tutors laid out for her.

"Please," said the girl imploringly, the lurid pink room twirling about her in a whirlwind of color. "If there's _any_ humanity left in you….all I want is….I…just want to hold my brother, is all. And I want…..I want….."

Vlad briefly glanced at his 'adopted' daughter's countenance, and it appeared that he clearly disliked what he saw. With a sigh, the man shuffled forwards, took Jazz by the hand, and lead the girl to her bed, looking away when the girl buried her face in her trembling hands, but not able to pretend that the young lady was not suffering, either. With another sigh, he reached inside of his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief (Thankfully, it wasn't pink) before he handed it to Jasmine, who hesitated for a moment, and then accepted, drawing the cloth over her red eyes, puffy with fatigue. She knew the consequences of not doing so.

Vlad considered her for a moment, and then reached for her. Ignoring the fact that Jasmine froze up, he pulled her into his arms, still staring determinedly across the room at the girl's pink dresser, which held a small pink music box on it that had once belonged to a little princess.

"Jasmine. You don't have to work so hard."

Still frozen, staring at the wall directly behind Vlad, Jazz's eyes nonetheless filled with tears, although she didn't dare speak.

After hugging her close for a moment, Vlad drew her back, and Jasmine shuddered at the calm, entreating look on the man's face, as though he were begging a small child not to hurt herself. It made Jasmine want to cry and laugh and scream all at once.

"Hmmm?" he said aloud, when all Jazz did was stare wildly at the man, stricken. He pulled her back into a warm embrace, wondering if this had been what Jasmine had been about to ask for after she'd requested to hold her brother in her arms. Of course, the little girl wanted to be held by _someone_, but did not feel it could be her mother-the two rarely got to see one another, and Jasmine was suffering under the delusion that her mother herself was in continuous agony all day long, ditto unfortunate Daniel.

At the very least, he was certainly someone. The girl hadn't been held for weeks on end after she'd emerged from her punishment, white-faced and trembling. At the very least, it hadn't affected her quite so badly as it had Daniel, but then again, from what the boy had witnessed beforehand, you could hardly say that it had helped matters.

Frowning again, Vlad rocked back and forth, taking Jasmine with him, not caring as tears started falling like pearls on his suit jacket.

"Jasmine, we've discussed about this before… "

The girl let out a wild, hiccupping sound, and, face screwed up, she tried to withdraw, but Vlad only held her tighter. After a moment, he felt the girl press her face into his shoulder, he, the man she so dearly hated.

"….all you simply have to do is offer _a few words_, child," said Vlad gently, although you could hear the frustration and urgency bubbling behind his words. "A few words, and I'll permit you to visit your mother every day-or at the very least, every other day. I'll decrease your tutorial visits to perhaps three nights a week, with the rest of the time to your leisure."

Jack could hardly afford to send his children to high school-how the devil did he think he was going to send a brilliant girl like Jasmine off to university? Thankfully, Madeline was intelligent enough to squirrel away as much as she could from her inheritance to support her children's futures, but Ivy league schools mostly catered to the very wealthy, to those lucky families who could, perhaps, make a generous donation here, a few pay-offs there…a new library wing HERE…..and suddenly, their child was attending one of the best schools in the country. While Jasmine surely would have received scholarships for her brilliance, it would have scarcely sufficed to cover her fees.

Wasn't she grateful that he was forcing the best minds the universities had to offer to cater to her to begin with? Vlad's grip tightened, but when Jasmine let out a soft sound that sounded suspiciously like a sob, he started, and cradled her instead.

"Offer a few words, and you won't have to work so hard. As of right now, one will suffice."

Jasmine screamed inwardly, tormented. Vlad wanted an impossible word. She had begged and wept for her father in the beginning, and had even tried to attack Vlad a number of times, which had cost her-and Daniel-very dearly. Now, at the very least, she was bright enough to believe Vlad's cheerful threat that he would gladly cut off one of her father's fingers and present it to her as evidence that he still had him in his clutches, freezing underground in some hellish institution.

_O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray, masters! fly, masters! Help!_

In the beginning, she wouldn't eat a thing, desperate to prove her defiance (As if kicking apart ming vases were not enough) but if being held down and force fed were not humiliating enough, looking at her little brother's health at mealtimes and looking into her mother's distressed eyes was enough to make Jasmine want to die inside for her stupidity.

She wanted her Daddy. So desperately. And she had never wanted to acknowledge another man as her true father. Jack was an oaf, but she was THEIR oaf. Their loving, protective, and sensitive oaf.

And she felt horrible enough for wanting someone to cry to when Dad was probably being torn to pieces somewhere, if he were still alive.

The thought made Jazz start sobbing, and she hated herself as Vlad started rubbing her back, murmuring quietly. After a few minutes had passed and Jazz had forced herself to gulp her tears down, Vlad continued to rock her back and forth for a moment, and then, when no answer was forwithcoming, he sighed, and pushed Jasmine away from him, looking disappointed.

"Well, I suppose I'll tell a servant to bring you up a tray for to-"

Ready to tear out her own hair, Jazz threw her arms around the startled man, shaking like a madwoman, mentally beating herself and laughing and wishing over and over that she was dead.

"No. No, I'll be good. I promise." she cracked.

She hated how puny her voice sounded, but the frantic girl only squeezed Vlad harder, and while a very nonviolent person, she nonetheless craved that she had a knife to plunge into this terrible man whom could only truly be called a monster.

Vlad's eyes were still on her. Like a pair of cold embers, they burned. And while her stomach contorted at the idea of allowing Vlad this absurd little victory, she told herself that he would never receive her will. Ever. Even if it felt wonderful to be held like this, or if she wasn't fighting back tears as mathematical equations swum before her eyes, and her hand cramped with writing the countless figures out.

"...father," she at last forced out, feeling that vomit would have been less nauseating. At the very least, her face was pressed into the man's increasingly tearstained shirt, so the words were muffled, although they rang in her ears.

"Father, _Please_. Don't be angry. I'll do whatever you want. Please."

She sounded so young, she frightened herself. She needed out of this asylumn, or else one morning she was going to find herself chattering to the stuffed animals and preparing them a fake tea party.

Vision still swimming from the tears tumbling from her eyes, she looked up and saw a Cheshire cat grin on the man's face, his aura pulsating with triumph. Much to her disgust, Vlad pulled the girl into his lap, and tucked her head underneath his chin after he kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"That's a good girl, dearheart. That's a good girl."

As his arms wrapped around her, Jasmine started to sob once again, wishing over and over again that it was Danny, Dad, or Mom embracing her, and not some beast. Vlad let out gentle 'shh'ing noises when she started choking on her own sobs.

His eyes were bright and smug, and his truly wicked smile never once broke. It was harder to say whom she hated more at this point in time: Vlad, or herself.

How much time went after Vlad started whispering praises to her, she wasn't sure. Her professors scarcely ever praised her, as any lesson ill-prepared would certainly be their last. But after weeks of grueling and relentless study, it was more than welcome, even if it came from Vlad.

At last, when she could cry no more, Vlad lifted her off of his lap, and tucked her beneath the pink bedspread, patting her cheek fondly as she looked up at him with red eyes.

"I think you best go to bed now, dear," Vlad offered, voice uncharacteristically mild. "I'll tell your tutors that their services won't be required for the next few days...and you can forget about the assignments they currently commissioned you."

He picked up his book, checked his watch once again, and turned away from the distraught girl, before absentmindedly clapping his hands, making the sea of pink nightlights and the chandelier bulbs fade into darkness. Jazz shivered, and called out:

"What about D-Danny? And m-my Mom?"

Vlad phased into his ghost form, turned around, his eyes flashing, and Jazz shivered as a pair of scarlet eyes bored into her own from the darkness. She was certainly going to have nightmares tonight.

"You may visit your mother after supper-the three of us will adjorn to a parlor, somewhere. Daniel will..."

His voice became odd, and Jazz had to strain her ears to hear his next, barely audible words: "...simply have to grow up before he can join us."

And with that, he disappeared.

Alone in the darkness, Jazz simply sat there for a moment or so, stunned. Then, she clapped the lights back on, and cautiously got out of bed, eyeing the small music box across the room. It was one of the many things Vlad had enjoyed boring her to death about when he'd brought her to this room that hurt her eyes and embarassed her so vehemently by going on and on about its origins.

She crossed the room, wishing she wasn't walking on glittery carpet, and uncertainly reached for the fragile little item, reaching for its silver windup key. She opened the lid, and smiled faintly at the watercolored background of what was a lovely castle surrounded by dancing fairies around a small, wooden princess faded by age, but still had a sweet, innocent glow about her, wearing a ballgown and a crown of flowers. She spun obediently to the almost unbearably sweet tune playing, never once missing a beat.

Jasmine smiled at it for a minute.

Then, she hurled the item at the wall, watching it crack in an explosion of shattered porcelain, wood splinters, and gears, which tumbled to the floor, ruined forever.

The girl sank to her knees, and started to wail.

_If we shadows have offended,  
>Think but this, and all is mended,<br>That you have but slumbered here  
>While these visions did appear.<em>

* * *

><p>Well, it had taken her long enough, but graciously, the girl had more common sense then he'd originally thought she'd possessed. Vlad thought that it would yet take her a couple weeks to get it through her thick skull that a simple acknowledgement wasn't going to destroy her. This was the way things were now, and thankfully, he'd gotten the Masters' women to accept it.<p>

_The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them._

Sneering with triumph, and some tenderness at the memory of how Jasmine had reached for him, Plasmius continued on his journey down the halls, sinking beneath the floor for a few levels and finding himself at a neglected little stairwell that lead to a small tower.

Now, to only get Daniel to admit the same, life would be perfect, but first things came first: The boy needed to be shocked out of his melancholy to speak once again. It certainly wasn't VLAD'S fault that things had gotten so desperately out of hand, and Danny was in his current state, but nonetheless, his face fell slightly as he passed several rows of knights in armor solemnly standing at guard in this lonely little place.

The wind howled against the glass outside, so audible in its deathly hush. It was hard to figure out which was more irritating: Danny throwing temper tantrums like his sister, or this _silence_.

Shaking off the thought, Vlad arrived at the tower door, and knowing that the chamber was ghost-proof, became human, typed in a combination at the door, scanned a fingertip, and an eye, and the door slowly clicked open.

Now that that bit of unpleasant business was over with, it was time to visit his favorite patient.

_This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.  
>Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. <em>

* * *

><p>Yep, Vlad's still in denial. May or may not continue this-I think it might be more enjoyable for you guys to guess on Danny's current state and what happened to Jazz and Danny. (No, Vlad did not assualt either of them, for those of you with dirty minds. Hindsight, what I imagine happened was worse. *Shivers* I want to give this a happy ending, but don't know how...happy for WHOM?<p>

So I may just let sleeping dogs lie. College means Lauren is mucho busy, so updates for my two accounts will probably only come around the weekends, which I think is pretty fair. Take care, everyone, and please review!


	3. A Walking Shadow

Chapter Three: Painted Black

* * *

><p>The works of Edgar Allen Poe were far more suited to this place than a Shakespearean comedy.<p>

Vlad quietly drifted up the neglected stairwell that took him to St. John and his newest client's chamber, pausing a moment to glance out of the one window that wasn't being suffocated by heavy velvet drapes.

Outside, not much to be seen other than a barren, gloomy courtyard, and the trees outside Danny's sector were stripped of their flora and fauna, looking little more than enormous heaps of barbed wire shuddering ominously in the evening gale. The tyrant made a mental note to commission a new, grand garden planted outside by tomorrow at the latest; Daniel's once rare good behavior awarded him trips outside. He might as well have something pleasant to see, although he probably didn't even know what he was looking at, anymore.

Shaking his head at the preposterous ideas spilling into his head, Vlad finally reached Danny's enormous door, and hesitated a moment; he'd learned by now that it was better not to go in when his new child was having a screaming fit.

But thankfully, and unfortunately, silence. The man strode in without knocking, fingering through his collection idly:

_You take my life when you take the means whereby I live._

* * *

><p>A peaky-looking specter barely glanced up from his desk as Vlad came in, eyes glossed over with boredom as he scribbled impatiently on a clipboard; Vlad had to irritably clear his throat before the ghost paused in his work, and looked up.<p>

"Did you need service, my lord?"

One of the many things Vlad liked and disliked about St. John de Sica was that the apathetic, centuries-old physician was so cynical concerning his own existence that he feared no one and nothing; not the Romans who had captured the doctor when he was still alive and nearly fed to starving lions, nor the Black Plague, which had decimated a great deal of his patients, nor Pariah Dark, who had forced the ghostly physician under no uncertain terms to serve as his own private surgeon in his prime. He also quite obviously didn't fear his new master Plasmius, because if he had the opportunity to endure and continue his work, fine; if not, then that was fine, also. The man had been so hardened after countless years of treating people and ghosts alike who could afford his services (emaciated, burned, mutilated, or horrendously ill all) that few things ceased to surprise him or capture his attention for very long.

The only thing that did occasionally capture his interest, however, was a challenge, and Vlad had one. And so the doctor had not really needed much prompting to become the boy's new caretaker after he'd gotten a glimpse at what he'd be working with.

Vlad glanced at the double doors behind St. John in the simple chambers where Danny's bedroom lay. Still no sound.

"Is he sleeping?"

St. John idly began to polish his eyeglasses with his sleeve.

"Last time I checked, no. He had a little milk and honey this morning, however, which is a good sign. That oversized flea basket of his is still fussing over him like a mother hen; occasionally he can get a stir out of him, but it tends to be brief."

Vlad made a face; one of his new, groveling lackeys-Walker-had mentioned the relationship between the convicted werewolf and the young ghost hybrid a fortnight ago in conversation. Considering the state Danny had been in after Vlad had finally realized what was going on in the White Room, even the former billionaire's heart had been softened (Or whatever you might call it) enough to send out his soldiers in pursuit of the fugitive.

He wished he'd left those sniveling brats Samantha and Folley alive. As much as it had pleased him to squash the two like insects, they would have been so much better for the décor than that awful, snarling fleabag.

Animals came with a price tag: That wolf had needed to be declawed to keep it from opening dimensional rifts between this world and the spectral. The thing had whimpered so piteously through the procedure (No anesthetic was applied) that Vlad had needed to disappear three stories upwards-with a pair of headphones.

Now, the sorry creature spent most of its time shuddering outside, chained with a variety of fun little accessories that Walker and his troupe had been all too willing to supply: All shackles, meant to shock, burn, sting, or otherwise render their poor captive immobilized.

Wulf had tried on at least six occasions to murder Danny's better father, which didn't necessarily endear him to Vlad, but after a few choice threats (And some rather enjoyable electrocutions), the thing seemed docile enough, even while hostile. St. John had noted that Danny seemed more himself when around his old friend, even if he still didn't say or do much.

Vlad sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefingers, and went on:

"Any seizures today? Any screaming fits?"

St. John's cold gray eyes scanned the paperwork before him.

"None. Blood pressure still relatively low, but stable. Temperature also stable."

"Did he sleep last night?"

"Not much. I came in around one or so in the morning and found him still staring at the ceiling. I gave him something to help him sleep after that-he woke up around eight or so."

Vlad frowned.

"That's all well and good, but when exactly will he out of bed-speaking, reacting, functioning like any normal human being?"

"The boy isn't a normal human being, good sir," said the doctor.

Vlad flashed him an evil look.

"When will his cognitive abilities be restored to what they used to be? That's what I want to know."

"I do not know, sir."

Aghast, Vlad colored.

"What do you mean, _you don't know_? You're to discover what's ailing the boy, and to make him better! That's why I hired you, _you imbecile!"_

St. John did not remotely react to the insult. Instead, he simply folded his fingertips, and said, very seriously,

"My team and I have been running consistent EKGs, and his heart rate is at a healthy pace for a boy his age. His insulin levels are functioning perfectly, our chest biopsy revealed that his lungs are functioning, he's not dehydrated, his temperature remains stable, and his blood and bone marrow are just fine. The only reason he gets sick at all is because his fits left him so exhausted that it left his immune system open to attack."

"Then stop the fits."

St. John raised and lowered his shoulders.

"They have. For the most part. But sir, I believe this is a mental conundrum, and not at all a physical one. I treat the body, sir-not the mind."

Vlad's midnight blue eyes narrowed.

"I'm not paying you to give me your doubts."

"You're not paying me at all, good master," pointed out St. John, somewhat dryly. "I have reviewed this boy's case time after time again, and regardless of what anagram I might draw or treatments I might try, I cannot guarantee a selected date when young Mr. Masters will start improving mental habits."

"Then you're obviously not trying hard enough."

St. John continued as if Vlad had not spoken.

"When you first handed over care of Daniel to me, the boy's mind and body were ragged; worn through. His body is as good as new, but his mind, I fear, is still in grave disrepair after what he endured."

"He can still speak!" said Vlad impatiently. "And his mind isn't broken at all-it's only his attitude, and his continued impertinence against me!"

St. John looked at Vlad searchingly for a moment, than pulled out a sheet of paper from his stack, adjusted his spectacles, and read from the report:

"House was seized and destroyed; when Daniel and his sister refused to swear their loyalty to you after Daniel had been shackled with a ghost-proof stabilizer, Daniel had to watch his sister be dragged to the White Room, and his young companions, a Mr. Tucker Folley and a Ms. Samantha Manson, executed before his eyes. For good measure, paid the price of disobedience by having to watch a preschool massacre. Was also left in the care of some of your associates, whom bore grudges against the phantom boy, and consequently disobeyed your orders to keep the torture at a minimum while you were distracted with courting, marrying, and going on your honeymoon with the present Queen Masters. It was only when Jasmine got on her knees and pleaded on the boy's behalf when you returned was he let out."

"He was pale and shaking when he came out, but he still screamed at me-still threw tantrums, still broke things. He certainly didn't act like a vegetable the way he does now."

Again, St. John shrugged helplessly.

"So much of his mental focus went into staying alive in that chamber. The White Room, as your Grace so intelligently named the simulation hall, was designed as a mental and physical torture for interrogators like your Lordship who wished to extract information from their prisoners without causing them bodily harm. When Jasmine was sealed for three hours at a time, she was surrounded by a vast horde of fake, but remarkably real to her-venomous snakes. And she felt the intense pain of being bitten, over and over again, for over two hours every day for three months. From what I've heard of _her _state after coming out each day-sometimes snakes, sometimes bee hordes, sometimes slow and painful suffocation via quicksand-she was a wreck by the end of her ordeal. However, ghosts like Spectra, who thrive on human agony and hold a grudge, were far more interested in the case of young Master Masters."

It appeared St. John's face had transformed into a sheet of unfeeling marble.

"Stab wounds, watching his family get murdered over and over and over again, infernos destroying his flesh without actually leaving him to die, being buried alive and feeling maggots feast on your eyes, multiple disemboweling, watching himself destroy people and places he loved, having his ghost half melt his body away in a pool of acid-all these things he perceived were happening to him, even if physically, nothing did. The ghosts in charge of the boy's torture were creative, if nothing else."

He sighed.

"I don't think the reality of what he had seen and what had been done to him sunk in until a little after you had your new family placed in the fortress, sir. Slowly, Daniel's sanity started to fail. I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner than it did."

Vlad said nothing. St. John went on:

"He'll usually perk up and have a moment of lucidity when he can see his mother or sister, but sometimes, he doesn't recognize them, and hides under his sheets or behind Wulf until the guards take the Queen back to her chambers or Princess Jasmine to hers. Occasionally, he'll go hours without making a sound, snap all of a sudden, and begin screaming. I can recommend a few choice psychologists-"

His cobalt eyes froze over, and the man quickly strode away before the ghost could finish, into the bedroom.

St. John warily looked over his shoulder at his retreating master's back.

A hint of sadness entered his eye, but just as soon as it had come, it had disappeared, and the ghost turned dutifully back to his work.

_Infirmity doth still neglect all office_

_Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves_

_When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind_

_To suffer with the body._

* * *

><p>A pair of green eyes glowered at him from the bed, and a warning growl reverberated throughout the plain room. Vlad let out a derisive snort.<p>

"You know, if not for the boy's sake, I don't think I could stand you at all, mongrel."

At that, Wulf's growl rose to a snarl, and the beast rose from his prone position cradling something on the bed to his hind feet, still-bandaged, bloody hands pawing futilely at the shock collar still encircling his neck. A mocking smirk momentarily appeared on Vlad's face, but it disappeared as Vlad's eyes trailed upward to the small form in the enormous bed beside Wulf.

A pair of opaque blue eyes ghosted over to Wulf, idly drifted off, and then found their friend again. A hint of confusion entered in them, and a bloodless hand drifted out from underneath the covers to awkwardly pat Wulf's elbow.

The monster glanced down at the boy, and Vlad's smirk faded just a little as he approached. Wulf curled instinctively around the teen, poised for a futile fight.

"Get away," snapped Vlad, holding up his control switch. "Butter biscuit, I'm not going to _hurt _the child."

Now it was Wulf's turn to look contemptuous. But he did reluctantly shift away from the bed, though he kept his eyes fixed on Vlad as he approached.

Listening to his companion snarl, a small raven head peeked out under the comforters. Face waxy-gray and eyes the size of dinner plates, Danny Fenton reached for Wulf's paw, staring dreamily across the room.

Vlad waited, but whatever fantasy or blissful nothingness had captured Danny's attention kept him utterly absorbed, and at last, he impatiently cleared his throat.

"Daniel."

The sound made him start, and Danny's eyes shifted to see who had made the sound. Vlad cringed slightly, expecting a shout or an insult, but Danny's glazed eyes settled on him as disinterestedly as if looking at a stray insect.

Nothing. Deathly silence.

Vlad raised an eyebrow, but thought it best to respond as cordially as possible.

"How are you doing today, son?" he asked carefully, cringing slightly as he noted Danny's nervous twitch at the sound of his voice. "I hope you're feeling be-"

But at that moment, Vlad cut off sharply with a gasp: His eyes had trailed upwards, and he'd finally noticed just what had happened to the walls.

Black. Black everywhere.

The sweet, serene blue of the walls had been splashed with enormous spikes of inky black paint, which in many places had dripped long, dark tears.

It'd been so dark in the room that the man hadn't even noticed. Huffing in irritation, he reached for Danny's hand with an angry frown, ignoring Wulf's angry hiss.

Sure enough, Danny's hands were black as coal dust. Vlad's fingers dug into his palm. He'd punished Jasmine for less than this….

"Where in the world did you get paint, of all bloody things?" the man demanded, pulling Danny's chin towards him until the boy most unwillingly made eye contact.

Danny just smiled gaily, eyes drifting again.

_A peace above all earthly dignities,_

_A still and quiet conscience._

"Daniel, are you still trying to make me angry? Daniel, answer me!"

But no answer. Danny's senseless blue eyes bore into Vlad's, and the man's fierce expression wavered as he stared into the dim hollows.

It wasn't a child's face at all. A haunted corpse was contemplating him like he, Vladimir Plasmius, seizer of the world, was the most interesting and intricate thing in the universe.

Vlad shivered, and drew back, hatred bubbling up inside him, in spite of himself.

"Madeline. Jasmine."

That seemed to rouse a hint of sense into the boy; Danny shivered, moaned, and tried to curl into a ball. But Vlad seized him by the shoulders, and held him tight.

"Mom. Mom. Mom and Jazz. I want to go home. I want to go home."

"You _are_ home, son," Vlad corrected, struggling to keep Danny from diving underneath the pillows.

Disorientated, Danny looked up at him, slightly dazed.

"But…..I'm not your son. You're not my fa-"

_**SLAP!**_

With a howl of rage, Wulf lunged for Vlad's throat, but the man just as quickly flipped the switch, sending a high volt of electricity straight at the ghost's pulse.

Yipping in pain, Wulf convulsed wildly on the floor, green eyes rolling as again and again, he attempted to pry the chained collar from around his neck, hands beginning to bleed afresh.

Danny had fallen on the ground from the impact, face bearing a red mark from where Vlad had struck him, mouth opened in a soundless gasp.

Standing before him was Vlad, his features contorted with rage, chest huffing from the exertion the man was feeling in keeping himself from strangling the boy then and there.

_Nought's had, all's spent,_

_Where our desire is got without content._

Then, after a moment, the man's rigid posture loosened, and a hint of regret entered his features. With a long-suffering sigh, the man carefully scooped up the frozen boy, pulled him back onto the bed, and held him close, while Wulf panted in agony on the floor.

"Dearest Little Badger, I'm sorry. I'm so terribly sorry. But I do wish you hadn't provoked me."

Danny said nothing. _He had been in a field of irises. Then, fire had started hailing from the sky. It had burned his clothes and skin…._

Somewhere, a man who could only truly be described as a demon's voice broke out again:

"….really, for your….own good….."

_Then, there'd been that girl. The one with the violet eyes and soft hands. What was her name, again?_

"Follow….footsteps….all this…seized everything…..all for you….."

_Huh. He couldn't remember her name, but he remembered the burning. And the fact that the one kid with the hat and glasses was sobbing, slowly but surely dying had broken his heart…._

_He'd felt the thorns sinking into his skin as he tried to dig up where they'd been buried alive, but that wasn't right; they'd died in a fire already….._

_He'd been at school, and he'd found himself holding a gun and surrounded by bodies, unable to remember a thing, face soaked in blood and horror….._

_No-he'd been trying to save his mother from Plasmius, who had turned into a terrifying monster, bent on raping and eating her….._

_He'd been a little boy again, when his parents were obsessing with their portal to the point where he and his sister were shoved to the side. Dad had thrown him into a cabinet, and after a few days, was dying from dehydration….._

_**^E&%&!*o8&^? JUTFW!*^T*(EY*PTPE&(ISH*T!U(E&*^%^&**(((((76%48945326!**_

"Daniel? Are you even listening to me?"

Danny felt a pair of arms around him; the fact that they were furry registered in his mind amidst all the chaos in his mind. Furry. Soft. Warm. Safe. The-creature-with-green-eyes-who-had-a-name-but-Danny-forgot-it-and-the-creature-was-kind-and-protective. Not dark-blue-eyes-bad-bad-bAD-BaD-BAD-BAD-BAD-BAD-EVIL-MAN-LIKE-PLA-

He bobbed his head in a yes, though he wasn't sure why, and buried his face into Wulf's shoulder, willing out the rest of the world. His head ached now, and everything was fuzzy.

He could faintly remember this morning, when he'd been able to string out a sane-sounding sentence to a maid asking for black paint. He hadn't been sure WHY he'd done it, but it made him feel better. Safe.

If the world was just one big nightmare after another, with one enormous one waiting for him every time he woke up, why should anything be anything but black? How could there be sickly-sickly sweet color surrounding him when so much other than the wolf watching over him hurt him? The scary bad man what's-his-face, Vlad, and the doctor with the cold eyes, hands, and needles?

It had infuriated him with the injustice. He'd splattered the walls until he was sure they were dark enough, feeling tears of righteous anger and sorrow pour down his hollow cheeks. No color. No blue. Blue had been a favorite of his once, but now, it was just hideous. It meant HIS normal dark eyes.

Red was even worse. He'd smashed a red Ming vase a few days ago…..

"Daniel?"

That was his name. Wearily, Danny turned to look at Vlad, forcing out the words he knew would make him happy, though he wasn't sure why or what he'd done:

"I'm sorry."

Vlad's face brightened somewhat, then the man sighed.

"Daniel, I hate to hurt you. You know that, right?"

It was a struggle to stay in the here and now, and not escape into blissful nothingness. But Vlad had said the names _Maddie_ and _Jasmine_….

Danny forced himself to nod. Nods were usually safe. Vlad asked him something else he couldn't understand. He nodded again. Then-

"I will permit Jasmine to come and stay with you for as long as either of you two wish tonight, if you agree," Vlad said squarely, hands on either side of Danny's face, "To be on your best behavior tonight at dinner. You WILL speak, and you WILL be polite, and you'll refrain from this foolishness. I have more than enough rooms, my dear boy, but if you wanted to redecorate, all you had to do was blah-blah, blah, blah, heresay, something, something, something, la, la, tra-la-la, something obscure, something boastful, blah, blah…."

Danny forced himself to keep nodding, and planted a large smile on his face even as the man's words turned into gibberish. He felt Wulf's heartbeat from behind him, and felt better.

Now, he just needed to play his cards right, and he could be reminded why he couldn't dive out the window (Which he'd also painted black) and end his misery. Mom. Jazz. Mom. Jazz. Mom. Jazz.

They needed him. He needed to think of an escape plan for them, even if the idea of existing was brutally painful for Danny now. He needed to be Danny Phantom. A hero. Gosh, he wished he had Danny Phantom here right now to save him.

Wait, wasn't he….?

Danny kept nodding innocently, parroting back at Vlad what he had heard: "I promise", "I understand", "Thank you", and, most painfully of all, "I love you too, Dad."

Danny forced himself to take deep breaths when Vlad gasped, and seized him in a limb-breaking hug. The man was trembling. He, on the other hand, was trembling with so much exhaustion that he could hardly bear it. Mimicking was easier, and took less energy than remembering words.

After awhile, Vlad left, with the Shakespeare book on Danny's lap and a tear of joy in his eye, promising that Danny would be wheeled to supper around 6. Danny just kept nodding and even supplied a wave, though his eyes were drooping.

When the door finally closed, Danny felt Wulf pull him close, and start rocking back and forth, growling. After a moment, he spoke in a low rumble:

_"Adiaux, evil viro. Via reina will mortigi vi se mia fangs fari ne."_

_Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player_

_That struts and frets his hour upon the stage_

_And then is heard no more: it is a tale_

_Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,_

_Signifying nothing._

* * *

><p>Amidst Vlad's newfound happiness that evening, Jasmine's despair, and Danny's weariness, someone was taking care to stay busy.<p>

A pale hand unscrewed a small phial of liquid, and carefully doused it on one of the plates being immaculately prepared for that night's dinner, and its owner scampered.


	4. Sweet Sorrow, Act I

Sweet Sorrow, Act I

Hey, everyone. I'm as surprised as you are on the relatively fast update on this story. (Compared to a five month long hiatus...) But the plot bunnies were in my garden, and they weren't going anywhere anytime soon. So yeah.

By the way, I realized that I hadn't left a translation for what Wulf said to Vlad last chapter. It was:

**"Hello, evil one. Your queen will kill you if my fangs do not."**

Brrrr! Look for a translation at the end of the chapter for more.

This chapter has no Shakespeare quotes, but we do get to see all of our heroes again-in the same chappie, for once. Please review, as reviewing makes for a very happy author and quicker updates. ^^

* * *

><p>~0*0~<p>

* * *

><p>If she did not already grasp the gravity of tonight, she would have gladly thrown one of her bejeweled perfume vials at yet another antique vanity mirror out of sheer frustration.<p>

But as much as she wanted to scream, to cry, to be a little girl again and insist that she wouldn't go to dinner-that she'd rather starve-such could easily put her children in harm's way, and that would not, could not, happen ever again. Especially not tonight. If she had to go mad and become a marionette in Vlad's despicable, horrifying play, so be it. Whether it was just for tonight or the rest of her lonely, painful life-it didn't matter. Too little mattered to her anymore, save for her children.

Maddie tried not to wince as the maid behind her tightly pulled on her lilac-covered gown's stays, tying them into neat bows. Her violet eyes fell to her mirror, where her reflection dazedly stared back, looking wan and liable to collapse. With any luck, the stays weren't so tight as to prevent her from speaking without gasping. Or have her sinking into a dead faint into her soup.

To think, she'd had silly dreams of this sort of luxury while she was living with the love of her life. That she'd fantasized of romantic dates with her in stylish gowns in beautiful and ornate places with her goofy husband was bizarre; incomprehensible to her now. She'd already been decked out in dresses that were every shade of the rainbow, in colors that she didn't even know existed, and in the finest silks and shoes worth small fortunes that were nonetheless thrown away after every first usage to make way for another sea of new and expensive dresses, of pearls, of mountains of shoes. The waste sickened and saddened her, and the memories of Jack shyly offering her a single rose on their dates made her already breaking heart crack at the seams.

She obediently raised her neck when another maid approached her with a bottle of perfume, and turned her eyes anxiously at the grandiose gold clock ticking patiently in the corner of the Master bedroom. It was half-past five, now.

Great. Just another unbearable thirty minutes until she got to hold Jazz and Danny again. She hadn't seen Danny for days now, despite her pleadings to her spouse, who each time had either attempted to placate her or idly postponed their scheduled visits.

A spasm appeared at the corner of her lip, and her cosmetic artist Leroy accidentally ran his rouge brush off her lips and onto her cheek, making it look like the mother's lips were bleeding off of her face. Maddie closed her eyes as half a dozen hands rushed out to fix the mistake, and tried to control their prickling.

Her spouse.

Her _spouse._

Only in hell, which it seemed the world had gone to. Vladimir claimed that she was his crown jewel, his prize and his joy.

But he stole her and her family away, and he hurt her as no one else could ever have, besides Jack. She became his doll, who needed about an hour every day to be frilled up in some new dress for meals, which were also ridiculously long, and more than often painful. Some days, Vlad claimed that Jazz had either too much homework to do or had been particularly "unreasonable," and was taking her supper upstairs. Even when the two got to see each other, real conversation was difficult to manage, because the second that it appeared that either of the two were bringing up "disagreeable" subjects, (I.e, primarily Jack Fenton) Jazz was usually whisked away from the table by a couple of servants, and dragged back up to her room, despite her struggles and Maddie's pleas. She could go two or three days without seeing her precious daughter after that-her poor, exhausted, sad little girl, who was suffering more than Maddie was under her ridiculous workload that seemed meant to punish more than anything else.

Maddie took deep breaths to steady herself, trying not to pull her hands into fists as another servant slid on new, elbow-length gloves, her teeth grit, her hands trembling.

Then there was Danny. Danny, who had no one but that ghastly doctor and that deranged animal looking after him. Danny, who had seen and been through so much that his once youthful and exuberant eyes had now faded to those of a world-weary shadow; a sad child who had so much horror in his mind that he forgot how to chew in the rare occasions he _would_ eat, and consequently had choked the few times he'd joined everyone at the table. Danny, who had curled up behind that beast with feverish eyes the last time she'd came to visit, saying over and over again that he didn't know who she was…..

That moment had passed, but the memory released the floodgates: tears came streaming down Maddie's ivory face, and they were not ceased by the many hands that wiped at them, attempting to repowder her face.

Losing her composure, Maddie staggered backward from the servants clustered around her, fell backward on the enormous bed that Vlad took her on every night, and began to weep, her tiara slipping out from its perfectly positioned place on her brow, falling lopsidedly over her head.

She heard a great deal of muttering and pleas for her to regain her composure, but she only curled deeper into a ball, and howled for a moment, burying her face in her gloved hands. After a moment, a familiar voice broke out, stilling the crying woman's sobs:

"Get away from her. Get AWAY, I said. Good Lord, you people are idiots. Let the poor child cry-it's the least she deserves. Go on, now. Go."

Somewhere far away, Maddie thought she could hear Leroy objecting.

"Jane, the Master-if she comes down to dine and she's not properly prepared, our heads-"

"-will not be nearly in as much danger as they'll be if the Master comes in and sees that you poor fools are gathered 'round this here girl cryin' her heart out," interrupted the voice firmly.

There was a sea of collective gulps. The voice went on:

"Think he's gonna wait for you to explain yourselves? We'll be picking you folks out of the carpet for the next week. Now get out of here before I ring him up to deal with you folks, or what's worse, you'll deal with me. The girl's pretty enough to get away without getting all dolled up over every little thing. Shoo. Shoo!"

Maddie raised her red eyes from her hands in time to see her head maid Jane sashaying all of the queen's unhappy looking beauticians out the enormous doors. The large, motherly-looking woman locked the grand doors behind them, rolling her dark eyes.

"Good Lord, I don't know how you do it, child. A new, hoity-toity dress with every meal! I've worn the same one every Christmas for twelve years."

Shaking her head, she tentatively approached Maddie, wringing her hands anxiously, earlier boldness gone. As uncertain as if she were about to poke a lion in the eye, she put a hand on Maddie's forehead, and then smoothed her hair back gently.

"Child," the woman said softly, "I know this might be a ridiculous question, but….are you alright?"

Jane started as Maddie threw her arms around the woman and buried her face in Jane's apron, crying out in misery. While clearly surprised, and casting an anxious glance at the door, it didn't take long for the woman to sink to the floor, pull the thin body against her, murmuring softly and continuing to stroke through her hair.

After about ten minutes or so, Maddie reluctantly rose her head from Jane's warm shoulder, pulling herself out of the maid's embrace. She gratefully accepted the woman's proffered handkerchief, dabbling her red eyes, and taking deep breaths to steady herself again.

"Jane. Jane, I'm sorry," she said hoarsely, glancing at herself anxiously in the mirror again. If she came down to the hall with red eyes…! "I just….all those people…..tonight…..my baby….."

Jane tugged her back into a hug, cutting her off.

"Shhh. You're a brave woman, honey. A brilliant, amazing, better woman than I, and a good mother. Lord knows courage isn't about holding all the cards-it's about holding out when your hand seems darn low."

Maddie attempted a watery smile, and wiped her eyes again.

"What news do you have from Jazz? Are you sure you'll she'll be with us tonight?"

One of the many things Maddie found invaluable about Jane was that her head maid was willing to risk visiting Jazz by bringing up her meal trays when Maddie's daughter was otherwise instructed to be left alone. It didn't always mean that either Fenton girl got to hear from each other the same day that they sent the message-it was a risky job, and Jane was a busy woman-but it was an immense comfort and relief to Maddie to be hearing regular updates.

Jane sighed, and rolled her eyes.

"W-elllll…..last I saw her yesterday evening, she was fine. Tired, needs some meat on her bones like her Mama, but fine. I think it would have been kinder to put that child in a padded cell, though. I feel like throwing up every time I go into that pink nightmare of a room of hers. Viola and her helpers should be getting her ready for dinner right about now."

Maddie rolled around one of the two heavy, bejeweled rings Vlad had given her.

"Any word on Danny?" she asked hopefully. "Have you seen him?"

Jane gave her a sad look. "Sorry, honey, but normally, only that eerie spook and that nice, terrifying wolf-creature are allowed anywhere near the boy. And the master, of course. Oh," she said, when she noticed Maddie's expression, "The doctor won't hurt him. I've only seen him once; the guy doesn't exactly look like a charmer, but he doesn't have a spark of meanness in him."

"How can you tell?"

"I just can. And, as for that…." Jane shivered. "Um….scary puppy…."

Maddie bit down on her lip so hard the skin nearly broke. A monster. A monstrous, spectral werewolf was the one "safe-guarding" her baby. While the thing seemed tame enough when she visited Danny's room, she never once took her eyes off it, ready to wrestle it with her bare hands if she had to. The idea of that thing being so close to Danny chilled the marrow in her bones.

Jane gently patted her shoulder. "Now, now. I've only ever seen the boy once-that creature was carrying him outside-but Danny wasn't struggling, and that wolf-monster-thing was being as gentle with him as I've ever seen a wolf-monster-thing to be. Uh….." she added, as an afterthought, "Never mind. It's like Lassie, only with a werewolf instead of a Golden Retriever."

Maddie made a face, but said nothing. Jane went on:

"Still, I don't blame you for being nervous. Werewolves. It's bad enough that the master turned out to be Count Chocula with frostbite and bloodshot eyes. I don't expect anyone would say a thing if I came in tomorrow dressed as Frankenstein."

"Hard to say things to dead people," Maddie muttered grimly as she adjusted her hated jeweled tiara. Jane shrugged, acknowledging that.

"True enough. Ghosts….werewolves….every time I keep thinking the world can't get any madder than it already is, something around the corner keeps waiting to contradict me." A sorrowful look sank onto her brow.

"Like you three being here, child. Lord knows Miss Jasmine's suffered her fair share of trouble-can't imagine what Danny's seen, from your descriptions. But no tears now, honey-you can save those for me later. You'll be seeing your daughter tonight! Isn't that wonderful?"

"And my son," said Maddie softly, standing up from the bed, face resolute. "Vlad ordered him to come tonight, too."

Jane slowly rose up too, looking stunned.

"Is he feeling better?"

Maddie wanted to waver, but she kept her back straight as she rose and lowered her shoulders in a shrug.

"I…I don't know. I haven't seen him for days. Sometimes, I have nightmares of Vlad confessing that he was lying to me-that my son was….was actually…."

Again, her lip trembled, but she glanced at the clock again, and hurried to put on her expensive, uncomfortable shoes.

"But Vlad came to me earlier today-happier than I've seen him in a very long time-and said that both Danny and Jasmine finally acknowledged him as their father today."

Her voice broke, but she went on, seizing a pair of diamond earrings from the enormous jewelry box Vlad had given her, and its priceless, necklace mate:

"So, he's decided to reward Jazz by allowing her to spend an actual full evening with Danny tonight. And she'll be allowed to visit him as much as she wants from now on. Can you help me get this thing on?"

Jane gasped, and hurried across the room, grabbing the glittering Victorian necklace from Maddie's fumbling fingers, and helping her fasten it around her neck.

"That's….that's wonderful. Shoulda been their right to begin with, but still, that's spectacular."

"I know," said Maddie sadly, relaxing as Jane retied her stays, making them looser. "If tonight goes well, I see no reason why I should need an _escort _to see my son, or to have to beg my so-called _husband_ to allow me to hold my daughter."

"Don't tell him I said so, but Vlad's a sentimental nutcase; hit him in the heartstrings, and I believe it'll ultimately pay off," said Jane quietly, anxiously glancing at the door again, as if she feared there were spies lurking behind it. "Getting to see your children should hopefully ease this experience for you, darling-I hope everything goes well tonight."

Maddie granted her a thankful smile as the woman squeezed her shoulder. But it faded a moment later.

"Jane," she said beseechingly. "You're my only friend here; please be honest. Do you think I should be focusing on getting us all out of this mad house, or creating a safe existence for us here?"

The woman clasped her shoulder again, but didn't look at her.

"I hope everything tonight goes well."

She'd opened her mouth to speak again, but at that moment, there came a polite knocking from the door. Both ladies stiffened. A servant's voice called out:

"Is Her Majesty ready to adjourn to dinner? His Majesty Vladimir Masters the I requests you meet him, Princess Jasmine and Prince Daniel for supper posthaste."

The two women quickly looked at each other. Jane quickly kissed her on the forehead, and started pushing her back.

"Go, go! God go with you. Best of luck."

Maddie whispered a word of thanks before she called out a quick "Coming!" and hurried to the door, leaving Jane to sink to her knees, and start praying feverishly.

~0*0~

"Viola, I'm sorry, but can't you hurry up? My hair looks fine."

The young woman cast a sympathetic glance at her, but said nothing; Jazz supposed she couldn't blame her. After all, the maid's life literally depended on the young woman's looking her best for the evenings. Jazz shifted uncomfortably in her fuzzy, pink chair while the women worked on fixing a fancy, bejeweled butterfly into her long red hair.

At least tonight, instead of her usual, frilly pink princess gown, she'd been given a pretty black and white dress. Although she found it extremely annoying that she hadn't seen a pair of pants in weeks, she prayed that, so long as she had to stay here, she could soon "graduate" from this room to one a little more dignifying. After a few weeks in here, she was ready to start bashing her head against the walls while Bearburt and Mr. McSmileyPuffin watched from the pink tea table.

As weird as it was to think it, she missed the plainness her home in Amity Park had to offer; the simple designs, (Other than the honking satellites outside) the dark blue basement lab-the comfort of her own room. The annoying fact that her father would barge right in to jabber on about ghosts when she wanted to be left alone…..

Jazz smiled sadly at herself in the mirror, too exhausted to break down again. She could barely get herself to come out of bed when Jane had reluctantly poked her awake for her lunch. The maid had responded to none of Jasmine's many questions, but she'd left a fortune cookie on the girl's tray. The tiny scrap of paper inside had read:

_Heard what happened today. Am sorry. Love you so very much. Danny coming tonight. Let's work hard to make this work. –Mom_

Jazz squeezed the message in her dark gloved hand, jaw set, though her heart fluttered with trepidation and suspicion.

The last time she saw Danny, her brother was a wreck. How had he recovered enough to be with normal society so soon? Vlad had made it clear that he wouldn't tolerate any of his "fits" (Oh, how dearly she wanted to murder the man), especially when the four were all together as a "family." What sort of trick was he trying to pull-what test was he trying to confirm?

The young genius didn't know, and didn't like it. Her stomach churned unpleasantly as the maids carefully began to apply a new color of nail polish onto her toes (Thankfully, also not pink), and her mind began to whirl.

Danny was sick. What point did Vlad want to prove, exactly? He'd had her dragged upstairs after she'd snidely implied that the king wasn't her true father-what might Danny say or do when he was so far gone he forgot his own name on occasion?

The maids had just finished putting on her dark heels when a tapping came to the door. Jasmine was up and out at the next flash, leaving three bewildered maids in her wake, and her escort running to keep up with the princess flying down the stairs.

~0*0~

It was warm.

It was dark and warm and there was his-friend-speaking, which was very good.

Danny couldn't understand what the green-eyed creature was saying, but it sounded nice. He fidgeted with the strange metal shackle that was always around his ankle absentmindedly, then snuggled into Wulf's shoulder, listening to the creature sigh beside him. He inhaled the scent; it was comforting, like tingling-tingling-pine-needles, home, and dog. He closed his eyes and wriggled, happy to sleep after the long-long-unpleasant day that he'd had. Shortly after Vlad had gone, Danny had started screaming and screaming and could not stop screaming.

Wulf might have held him and spoken urgently to him, but he didn't know, didn't care. There was only hot lead in his veins, and there was violence and the world flashing in and out of his eyes with horrifying images bleeding into his eyes.

Then, when the pale-man-with-a-cracked-head had rushed in with his cold cold cold hands, there had been….he didn't know what the long, shiny cold things were called anymore, but it had gone into him, and the world became quiet, and his body heavy. For whatever reason, his eyes began to rain, and Wulf had lapped at his face, tickling him. He'd fallen through a very dark hole after that, and had woken up maybe an hour or so ago to see his friend gazing anxiously at him.

Wulf was murmuring _fabelos_ in Esperanto that he'd heard when he was a youth in his village, still human, still alive. Although the poor creature wondered what point there was in it, considering his amigo hardly understood his language when he was still sane, it gave him something to do, and Danny seemed to enjoy listening to him.

Well, he stopped shrieking, anyway. Danny poked at the back of Wulf's paw while the convict continued to murmur stories, occasionally thumping his tail appreciatively when Danny would have one of his clearer moments, and scratch the wolf behind the ear.

The screaming in Danny's head had faded by this point, and so the young halfa felt relatively at peace. Earlier that day, Wulf had carried the young teen across the room, opened the window (Being careful not to trigger the invisible boundary that would set off his shock collar), and showed Danny white flakes tumbling through the air. Snow.

It had frightened him at first-made him angry, even. But Wulf made him stand there, though he fought and tried to close the window at first. It was a terrific delight to finally give in and touch the pretty crystals, which melted almost immediately when he tried to hold the little stars under his eyes. It became a game of sorts, for Danny to try and seize a snowflake drifting on the breeze that wouldn't immediately melt. He hadn't been successful yet, but it kept him occupied for a good amount of time before Wulf, not wanting Danny to catch a cold, finally closed it.

Now, Danny was closing his eyes again, snug and content, but now Wulf was gently nosing him awake, much to his confusion and annoyance.

"_Amiko_," said he, _"Vi dev resti maldorma. Vi estos ir al ĉefmanĝo ĉinokte." (1)_

Getting a vague idea what he was saying, Danny frowned and buried his head in the pillows, muttering inanely to himself. But Wulf gently tugged him back up, his hollow green eyes full of pity.

_"Mi scias vin volas dormi, sed tiuos alirita poste. Via patrino Maddie estas atendanta vid vin, kaj ankaŭ via fratino Ĵazo. Ni dev akiri vin pretan." (2)_

Danny shifted uncomfortably, but could not break his gaze. A moment later, there was an almost inaudible _tap-tapping_ at the door, and St. John glided through it, his dead face just as morose and bored as it ever was.

"You. Mongrel."

Wulf growled. Danny's attention turned to the man, and then away, towards the empty hearth in the corner. To his delight, he noticed something that looked a lot like the pretty crystals that had been falling outside just sitting there. And they were not melting. And there was something _glowing_ softly beneath them! He sat there looking at the ashes and dying embers, enraptured. St. John was blah-blahing at his friend, as usual.

"As you may have already heard, the king requests Daniel's company at dinner tonight. As you scarcely like to let a servant approach the child without informing them you'd like to tear off some rather useful body parts, I suggest you get the boy ready. And get some of that vile black paint off his hands. I don't suppose we could hide it by putting a strait-waistcoat on the boy and putting a tuxedo jacket over it to cover it up?"

The werewolf let out a bloodcurdling snarl, but St. John was already drifting back through the wall, eyes hopelessly indifferent, to whether the boy was ready or not, and to Wulf's cry of "_Amiko! Ne tuŝ tio!" (3)_

~0*0~

Walking again was funny. The first few steps were difficult; he felt as if he were on a rocking ship somewhere out at sea. Wulf had walked behind him, ready to steady him if his legs were to give out on him. He only needed to once on the stairs.

Approaching the dining hall doors, Danny swayed slightly, tugging uncomfortably at the fancy tie and emerald brooch at his neck. He felt dizzy, and the buzzing in his ears was starting up again. It was a fight to exist in the present moment, to see one of his polished shoes moving in front of the other, to keep the names _Mom _and _Jazz_ running through his mind consistently to drown out his dark thoughts.

_"Vi estas certe vi povas far ĉi tiu?"_ wondered Wulf anxiously, as they passed a row of bowing servants in immaculate uniforms. _"Eble alia tempo. Vi rigardas..." (4)_

"I'm fine," said Danny quietly, attempting to smile. "You….you will be…near, right?"

Still looking a little worried, Wulf nonetheless smiled as he picked up the surprised boy, and carried him through the door.

_"Estos bone, amiko. Mi promesas." (5)_

* * *

><p><strong>*Avoids getting hit by throwing garbage* So I wanted to explore the characters' psyche, okay? Next chapter will have our bone-chilling part II. Fear the salad and the soup. <strong>

**Until then, adieu, my sweet readers. Please review! :D **

* * *

><p><strong>Esperanto translation:<strong>

**(1) Friend, you must stay awake. You will be going to dinner tonight.**

**(2) I know you want to sleep, but that will come later. Your mother Maddie is waiting to see you, and so is your sister Jazz. We must get you ready.**

**(3) Friend! Do not touch that!**

**(4) Are you sure you're ready for this? Maybe another time. You look...**

**(5) It will be alright, friend. I promise.**


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